


Finders Keepers

by spicedrobot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Bondage, Fauns & Satyrs, Faunyatta, Human Genji Shimada, Human Zenyatta, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Predator/Prey, Sloppy Seconds, Spitroasting, Switching, Teratophilia, Threesome - M/M/M, ask for more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: All's fair in the hunt, and you keep what you catch.





	Finders Keepers

****They set up camp in the final rays of dusk.

It’s a quiet, terse thing, like an arm cocked back, the twitch of a trigger finger, licked lips and strained eyes scanning the horizon. Though it’s nothing so dire, just potent. Stir crazy. McCree longs for a smoke, but he’s only got two left, and it won’t keep him for the journey home.

The stew’s bubbling. McCree busies his hands cleaning Peacekeeper, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from stealing over to the edge of the fire’s light.

* * *

 

_It was good hunting out here, if you had the eye and stomach for it. A cursed wood, the locals had said, protected by a demon with gnarled horns, hellfire eyes, and a piercing wail. To McCree, it meant a forest of fat, stupid beasts, grown lenient without predator, easy pickings._

_None of the locals had ever seen the demon up close._

_Horned, yes, technically. Antlered was the better word, velvet against curious fingers. Hellfire eyes remained to be seen. He was out cold when they found him dangling in a snare that McCree had set hours ago, when sunlight dappled through the shimmer of leaves. Freckles and warm skin from head to hip, strange markings like stars upon his shaven pate, thick, tawny fur covering his lower body that narrowed into cloven hooves._

_McCree stuffed and bound the creature’s mouth with cloth in case the tales were true. By rights, he was theirs, game earned as true as any. McCree trussed him as he would a deer. Gentler, of course, since the creature seemed more human than beast. He snapped off a sizable branch, whittled a sturdy staff from the wood. The creature’s wrists were first: tied in front of him to the staff, then he bound his fetlocks in the same fashion. Genji watched in silence. They had hunted together many times, but this was the first they caught such a thing. His partner’s eyes jumped between McCree’s gloved hands and their catch, wandering ever since he’d slipped cloth between the creature’s sweet, round lips, perhaps even before, when he had hung, long and sleep soft, in the late afternoon light._

_McCree took rear position, waiting for Genji to fall into place in front of him. They lifted at the count of three, resting the staff on their right shoulders, the creature face up and swaying by his wrists and legs. In silence, they carried him, McCree glancing down once or twice, distracted by the slackened, oval face, the scent of young grass and new blooms lingering in his nose. He was glad he made Genji walk in front of him. Wouldn’t have done to have his partner trip over his own feet._

* * *

 

Now, the staff rests anchored between two low-hanging branches, heavy with their prize.

“When will he wake?” Genji says, low, for McCree’s ears only. His bowl rests empty on his thighs.

“Soon, I reckon. Not much punch to the concoction I put in those traps.”

McCree smiles as he snatches the ladle to claim the first serving. Genji’s feeling a different hunger; it always came on as unexpected and raw as his anger. The hunter eats slowly, hiding his growing wolfishness behind lifted bowl. He has an inkling. From the edge of his vision, the creature’s tail flicks, small as a trick of the light. McCree waits until Genji finishes his meal. Doesn’t do to waste food.

Not when things are about to get interesting.

* * *

“Morning, sunshine.”

The creature remains still for a moment or two, then his large, rounded ears twitch.

McCree had noticed its beginnings as he trussed him: a flush along his cheeks that bled to his slender throat. Though nearly lost in the flickering light, it has only grown in the passing hours.

His cream-tipped tail flicks restlessly as the creature opens his eyes.

Not hellfire, but startling, vivid amber; when they catch in the light they reflect gold like his beastly counterparts. He tugs only once at the restraints. Though his brow remains even, the creature worries at the cloth in his mouth, pulling it between his teeth. His gaze passes between the hunters, a soft huff trapped behind the gag. McCree feels the weight of Genji’s stare.

“So, yer the beast the townspeople are scared of.” This draws the creature’s attention. “I’m guessin’ if they ever got a good look at you, they wouldn’t be scared, ‘specially not of a critter that stumbles into such an obvious trap.”

The creature’s gaze slides away and into the dark.

“But that isn’t quite right, either.”

“What do you mean?” Genji says.

“Descended from dragons but can't sense a heat.”

“We are not actually dragons, Jesse,” Genji mumbles, expression tightening.

“Can’t you smell it? Here.”

McCree grasps the tip of the creature’s tail, peeling it back from its modest, tucked position. The creature’s eyes widen, cheeks vermillion as McCree exposes his heat-rent body. His breath quickens, audible through his nose, as McCree’s hand falls away.

“So, did we catch a heat-drunk faun,” he drawls, a slight pause. “Or did he step into a trap knowing full well what it could mean?”

Genji stiffens next to him, sharp like he’s found a target destined for a killing blow.

The faun’s eyes are unreadable. An aborted noise escapes the gag, low and strange.

“Untie his mouth, won’t ya?” He gestures to Genji, aching again for that cigarillo. One ache for another.

If he wasn’t watching so closely, McCree would’ve missed the fine tremble of Genji’s fingers as he removes the gag.

“So?”

The faun swallows once, eyes narrowing but not unkindly.

“It is...not how it appears,” the faun says, adam’s apple bobbing, voice low and breathy, gently accented. “No one has dared come near before. I just wanted to observe…” He worries his lip.

“Observe, huh. And how long have you been doing that?”

McCree recalls the past few days, once or twice buried between Genji’s thighs, swallowing his cock while he held him against the trunk of an ancient tree. Fucking Genji breathless after he’d worked an orgasm or three from him, sliding again and again into that trembling, pliant body, his name rattling from Genji’s lips on every exhalation.

“S-since the beginning.”

McCree hums. “Well, well. A peepin’ tom on our hands too. ”

The faun frowns then, though it’s more of a pout.

“How crude. I did not watch only that.”

This earns him a chuckle from McCree.

“You got a name?”

“Zenyatta.”

“Well, Zenyatta.” The name rolls curiously off his tongue. “What’ll it be? Could let ya go, if you let us hunt freely when we choose. Or we could give you that fuck you’re aching for.” Genji makes a quiet sound next to him, but not one of protest. “Though this situation’s got me in strange tastes.”

Zenyatta’s face pinches, short, round brows angling up. His thighs clench together, the soft chuffing that’s escaped him once or twice sweet and breathless when not muffled by the gag. Enough to send a jolt of delicious heat to the steadily thrumming want in McCree’s belly.

The faun’s jaw flexes once, twice, then his eyes close, and in a whisper he replies.

“I...take me, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely...”

* * *

 

Surprisingly, or maybe not so, the silent one is the first to descend. McCree smirks as Genji drops to his knees in front of Zenyatta. The faun tries to keep Genji in his sights, but his restraints only allow so much. His tail, tucked so carefully to his body, is nudged aside by Genji’s nose.

Zenyatta gasps, short and shocked, incriminating wet smacks reaching McCree’s ears as he rounds on the faun, cupping the curve of his cock through his jeans. Zenyatta’s eyes draw low, lingering, melting beneath whatever’s Genji’s doing between his legs.

McCree eases the gag into the faun’s mouth, no stuffing this time, and Zenyatta mouths against it immediately, moaning and wetting the old cotton, able to scream and be heard, unable to truly muffle himself. Genji must do something particularly good: the faun jerks, hands scrabbling ineffectually at the staff, struggling for purchase.

“Well, look ‘t that,” McCree draws closer, eyeing the trembling expanse of stomach. His cock’s strangely human-like besides its sheath, the exposed flesh ruddy near to its base, leaking angrily into his navel. “That’s a nice dick you got.”

Genji moans, and Zenyatta joins right after, the vibrations of the man’s mouth shocking up his spine. McCree drags a single, gloved finger along the length of Zenyatta’s cock, swirling at the slit, teasing it just a little, enough for Zenyatta to jostle the staff holding him.

“Careful now. Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

It takes no time for the faun to grow desperate beneath a desperate mouth, words made into sounds by the gag, but McCree knows what he’s asking for. The faun’s cock slaps and twitches against his stomach, pre shining in the rising moon’s light.

McCree sizes up his kneeling partner. Genji’s jeans tented obscenely, a line of saliva rolling from his chin to the trampled grass between his spread thighs, like he’s forgotten his own pleasure as he works each gasp and plea from Zenyatta. His tail’s matted and wet from his mouth, hole rosy and glistening, and if McCree wasn’t hard before he’s aching now.

“Well, if you’re good with just tastin’, I’d like to get to fuckin’.”

Anger shines in Genji’s eyes, but McCree only laughs, drawing his cock out as Genji more than shakily rises to his feet. McCree gives it a stroke, then snatches at its base, biting back a groan.

“Jesus, Genji.” McCree says as the man withdraws his own cock, swollen and leaking like he’s about to come rather than begin.

Zenyatta’s tail twitches and holds, exposing himself, heat ripe and trembling. When Genji kisses his cock against it, the pleas spill forth, useless and garbled.

“Maybe there is something to being a dragon’s descendant,” his partner murmurs.

Genji’s dark eyes look black, and McCree shivers.

Zenyatta can’t spread his legs, lean away, nothing to make the insistent push of cock any easier to bear. He’s not speaking common when Genji’s halfway inside, lost in tight moans and quiet, punched out sounds. McCree’s glad his partner went first; he didn’t like to struggle too much when he fucked.

Genji’s eyes take on a fiendish gleam, trained on the body beneath him. Fucking him open, inch by inch, forcing spit and slick from around his cock, pooling down Zenyatta’s tail as he claims more and more. His hands find the faun’s hips, white-knuckled as he shealths himself, panting, their sounds together forcing McCree’s hand on his own cock. He’d have his turn after Genji, or maybe he could take faun’s mouth, though he liked hearing him, bright pops of sound, shocked, like he’s scandalized, like he didn’t watch them fuck and do something as stupid as get caught with the singular hope he’d get the same treatment by two dangerous strangers.

Once Genji starts moving, there’s no reprieve. He fucks, deep and hard, sharp, brutal snaps of his hips, pumping into the faun, shaking even the steady foundations of his bonds, the staff jostling in the branches’ hold. _Easy_ , McCree wants to say, but the faun keens once, goes silent and arches, Genji thrusts never slowing as their captive paints his own chest in cum, catching against pudgy nipples and sweat-slick stomach.

He’s glad Genji loses himself too, making up for lost time while his mouth was buried inside the needy thing. McCree’s cock throbs dangerously in his own hand, and he’s nearly hopping from foot to foot waiting for Genji to pull out. It’s so unlike himself that he exhales, harsher than he means.

Genji leans his sweaty brow against the faun’s trembling, bound legs, catching his breath while he milks the last of his pleasure from his cock, watching it disappear and reappear with his scarred mouth ajar and awed.

“You ready for me, lil thing?” McCree doesn’t even sound like himself, and the faun’s eyes find his, glazed, sated. He arches as much as he can, tail trembling to show himself off. The hunter bites his tongue, swallows his swear, siddles up beside Genji with cock in hand. Only a few, terse seconds pass from when Genji pulls out to when McCree replaces him.

There is no resistance this time, sloppy and pliant, and _fuck_ , the sounds of it, Genji had loaded him up; even McCree’s ears burn hearing it. He loses track of what Genji does, enraptured by the sight of the faun’s pink, warm clutch sucking his cock inside. He fucks slower than Genji, surer; anything more would empty his balls in an instant.

A second of uninhibited begging “Ah, please, harder, more—” Common, then not, something lilting and pretty and rough, before the wet slide of flesh muffles him. McCree dare not look up to watch Genji fucking the mouth that’s been tormenting them since they laid eyes on him, but the noises are almost worse. A choke, a swallow, Genji’s moans, dirty, filthy praise. Familiar, terrible, that hot voice speeding his own hips.

Between one orgasm and the next, they untie Zenyatta from the staff. The faun crawls over McCree, settles none too softly on the cock McCree offers up while he reclines in the sweet grass. Genji fingers himself as Zenyatta rocks down without an ounce of shame, as quickly as the motions allow with his arms bound in front of him. Genji tears his eyes away and whines, rolling to his knees, face mashed into his forearms. McCree groans as the faun shakily pulls away.

“H-hey now,” he grumbles, squeezing his pulsing cock as the faun mounts up his partner with gentle, seeking ruts.

His motions are stilted, teasing with what leverage his tied hands provide. Zenyatta doesn’t ask for the bindings to be removed, only stares at McCree with head canted, eyes half-mast, tail twitching up.

_Show-off, more fox than deer._

McCree growls helplessly, tugs his cock with unabating hunger.

The idea forms then, as the moon waxes, as Zenyatta curls over Genji and spills into him with needy, aborted jerks while his partner’s cock hangs heavy and dripping between his legs.

They ain’t leaving this forest. Not without the faun. He wonders what it’ll take as Genji collapses, exhausted and filled, and Zenyatta’s eyes turn, bright and otherworldly, to McCree. His long, velvet tongue drags a hot line over McCree’s cockhead, and the hunter grasps the base of an antler and fucks Zenyatta’s throat little kinder than a toy while the faun struggles to keep his eyes open.

McCree’s more than willing to find out.


End file.
